The Wind Blows
by Mrs. Elizabeth Gibbs
Summary: Jibbs smut/PWP. The wind blows in Paris and she silently begs for him to remember her. Pre-series. A little bit of angst mixed in with the smut. One-shot.


A/N: This came to be because of a late night tonight on tumblr and Kay telling me to write sexy Jibbs smut. So this happened (I hope it makes sense). Inspired by the song 'The Wind Blows' by The All-American Rejects.

For Kay, because we're sexy and separated at birth. I think I'm gonna go eat some peanut butter now ;)

"_I'll leave when the wind blows, take a breath there your heart goes."_

* * *

><p>She took a breath in, the sound loud in the otherwise-silent room.<p>

His fingers danced over her skin, leaving burning trails where he touched her. She closed her eyes, biting her lip to stop the moan from leaving her mouth as his hands moved lower on her body. Exhaling she opened her eyes and looked at her lover, his silver hair tousled from previous activities.

"Jethro," she whispered, not wanting to disturb this last moment of peace with him. He looked up, blue eyes solemn and calm, making him look handsome and wonderful, and she swallowed as she looked away.

His only response was to lean forward and kiss her abdomen, his intention clear. Resting her head back against the pillows, Jenny closed her eyes as his kisses trailed lower and lower, brushing her upper things and her knees before moving back up to the place he wanted most. He pressed a hard-mouthed kiss to her clit, making her breath catch in her throat and a breathy moan leave her lips.

She was leaving him tomorrow. It had been decided for weeks, and now the plan was finally going to reach conclusion. It made this whole evening bittersweet; it was their last night in Paris together.

She slid a hand into his hair as his tongue moved against her, and it took all her self-control not to make a sound. He moved away from her and she frowned, opening her mouth to protest.

"Let go, Jen," he said, and she bit her lip, knowing exactly what he was referring to. "I want to hear you say my name when you come."

She gasped at the request, throwing her head backwards as his head disappeared back between her legs, getting right to business as his tongue assaulted her sensitive nerves. This time she didn't keep her moans at bay; her volume increased as the torture continued.

"Jethro," she gasped, her hand gripping his hair tightly as her hips arched more into his mouth, begging for release. His hands held her hips against the mattress, and white heat flooded her body as she reached climax. Slowly she relaxed as the aftershocks finished, leaving her aching and flushed, her head spread out against the pillows.

Jethro climbed back over her body, pressing his warm, lean muscle against her sensitive body and bending his head to kiss her, letting her taste herself on his tongue. She moaned against his lips, enjoying his kisses as he trailed them over her chin and down her neck.

He reached her breasts and laved attention on them, making her press her head into the pillows and gasp, his name leaving her lips almost like a prayer.

And she was praying. She was praying for this night to never end; to never see the light of day through the curtains of the hotel balcony, to never hear the alarm go off to tell them it was time to go to the airport.

To never have to leave him the letter she'd agonized over writing.

It sat in the pocket of her leather coat, a gift from him. She hadn't decided yet how she'd give it to him; she just knew she was too much of a coward to face him as she left. She'd leave it for him somehow, for him to read when she was long gone.

He pressed his hardened shaft against her still-hot center and she moaned, her lips finding his in a kiss as he began to push into her, finding her slick and waiting. She pressed her cheek to his as he began to move, building a slow rhythm that began to increase in tempo as she encouraged him.

She loved the way he smelled; his musk was intoxicating, and she drank it in, closing her eyes as he hit just the right spot.

"Jethro," she whimpered, need pooling in the pit of her stomach. She was burning, desire coursing through her, and she needed just a little bit more.

They'd done this for so long she didn't need to say more than his name for him to understand what she needed; his hand wandered down her body, brushing her breasts and her toned stomach, finding the place where their bodies were merged. His thumb and forefinger flicked over her clit, forcing a small cry out of her that made him harder at the sound.

"Oh," she gasped, so close to the edge now she could practically see it. "Oh, Jethro!"

She came with a cry of his name, and after a few long strokes to help her ride it out he followed, emptying himself inside of her with a hoarse grunt of her name.

He collapsed beside her and pulled her body into his, spooning her as his hand curved over her middle. He kissed the back of her hair, his hand coming up to cup her breast, fondling it in the afterglow. He said her name again and she closed her eyes, guilt flooding her body.

"Jenny," he said, and she swallowed, turning over and looking at him, hands splayed on his muscular, broad chest. "I love you."

The words were soft, barely a whisper, but they cut Jenny like a knife. She blinked, suppressing the tears, but she couldn't say them back.

It would hurt too much.

Instead she just moved to cuddle closer to him, resting her head under his chin, listening to his heartbeat. She swallowed, holding back the hot tears that burned her eyes.

Hours later, as the first rays of light hit her face, she spoke softly.

"I'll be there, when the wind blows," she breathed, knowing he was too far gone in sleep to hear him. "Think of moments like this; quiet moments of perfection that we need to hold onto. Just please, Jethro, remember to breathe."

She watched the sun rise slowly, and Paris awoke with the dawn. Jethro awoke and kissed her good morning, but she couldn't allow herself to make love to him. It would feel too much like cheating.

So instead she got ready, and kept the letter in the coat pocket; she'd leave the coat on the plane- that was the easiest way. They left the room, but before they shut the door, Jenny looked back into it, glancing by the window.

The curtains moved as the wind blew.


End file.
